Blood On My Hands
by SailorSilvanesti
Summary: To Kill another Elf is to BE Other Than Elf. That is The Way.  Strongbow knows this. Yet he also knows it was his arrows that felled Kureel to save his son...how can he live now this has come to pass?  Angst/Family. You might Awwww, at one point.


**Disclaimer: I do not own ElfQuest or any of it's characters...just a fan with a strange mind...**

**Shortly after the fall of Blue Mountain and it's events...**

**Enjoy...**

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><p><strong>Blood on my Hands...<strong>

**~)0(~**

Will they never be clean again?

I wash them in the bitterly cold stream, again and again, though it is icy with the white-cold season; though they turn red raw, I can still see the stains of my sins. They are unclean, now and forever…I have corrupted my purpose, taken a life that was never meant to end; I have corrupted the Way…

Moonshade, beautiful _Erynn_, and their beloved son, Dart; both had tried to help, to comfort and understand, though he knew they never would. Still in my dreams I see him, my precious son's limp body dangling from the claws of his bond-bird…the maddened gleam in the Glider's eyes… I was told later, his name had been Kureel - formerly the second to Winnowill and leader of the Chosen Eight- though at the exact moment, I don't think I could have cared less. He threatened my cub, and a human child Dart had befriended, also…nearly ripped their souls from their bodies long before the world had decreed their time was through…he was meat to be wasted. I remember…I remembered everything…

The trembling sensation of the bow as it shuddered in my shaking hands, fury and fear warring inside a wildly beating heart…how the tension had built before the thrumming shaft was released to the air, bringing death to the one it aimed for. Maddened laughter had caught in his throat, no…was pinioned there by my own arrow shaft, even as it's twin plunged deep in Kureel's side; there was a strange sort of nausea as the lithe body tumbled to the harsh, rocky ground many leagues below from the back of his bond-bird. Almost as if, horror and parental relief were at odds in his chest…

There had been no momentary pause, no time to sit and contemplate the first breaking of The Way…and his soul, this had been the first time an Elf had killed another… His bow had clacked off the rough, stony ground, drowned out by the soft taps of their combined, hastened footsteps as Moonshade and he had run for their child…broken and battered on the tomb of the Gliders…

Deep in the night and when he slept, it came to him. This horrifying guilt that crashed over him like a rockslide, and raked his flesh raw, like the claws of the bear he had taken on as a cub…though this time, there was no Bearclaw to save his life; and Strongbow would have given anything for his former Chieftain to be standing there, scolding him for his foolishness, but with forgiveness in his eyes… There would be no forgiveness for this. Not for Strongbow.

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There was a new hatred to his gaze everytime his eyes should wander past his own reflection in a pond or even in another's eyes; he rarely spoke or sent anymore…barely meeting another's eyes at all…he had broken The Way, he was other than Elf, if that were possible. Living in this world of self-loathing was enough…his son was safe. Dart lived because of his actions, and that was enough…he would to have driven his own arrows through his breast and that of Moonshade 'afore they had to suffer the loss of another child.

The burden of Crescent's death would always be with him; as would Kureel's…but if it protected their son, he would bear it for him. Even though it pained him greatly, for his famed skills with a bow were now useless; everytime the arrows strung on his bow were faced towards a creature, he saw the Glider and his resolve trembled…throwing off any conceivable aim. To his Tribe, he was useless…and still they treated him with love and care, he simply could not understand why. So he punished himself in their stead…not being able to sand the sadness and concern in their eyes, worse than the darkest stares or direst beatings.

He sat now, hands deep in the icy, biting cold of the stream where he had chipped out a hole in the thin layer of still-clear-water coating the sluggishly flowing river and thrust them in; it burned strangely, though he knew it to be cold. Beloved bow and quiver full of arrows splayed across the white-cold pelt to his right, carelessly tossed without thought as he contemplated how easily he could simply slip into the cold water and disappear from this life…they say death sets you free, after all. A soft stumbling sound caught his attention, as did the quiet exclamation; he turned to find a dark shape there, a beacon in the snow, just watching with tears welling in his eyes…

Strongbow did not know how best to react, and so, stayed quite still as the other approached; falling to their knees by his side. Dart gently stretched out sun-tanned hands and pulled his own numb ones from the river, clasping them between the warm palms and rubbing gently to bring back life to them; dark eyes searched his father's with an indescribable emotion…pain evident in their depths. Tears fell in small rivulets of grief down his dark cheeks, Strongbow's heart fell and a cold hand reached up, instinctually, to wipe them away…but was startled into inactivity as his son spoke.

"Please Father, tell me…I-…this is my fault, please don't do this to yourself…" pleaded Dart, Strongbow's own heart stilled. How could he think that…? Dart pressed himself closer, arms reaching out like they had when he was but a small cub, and he wrapped his own around the young warrior…pressing the shaggy head to his chest. The front of his tunic grew wet, Dart's body trembled and all Strongbow could feel was numb; how had his son come to this conclusion?

Instinct took over and he offered a hushing sound, stroking the wild hair, and sending softly. Assuaging the guilt of the other that was steadfast in its resolution, so much like his own…

_*I would do anything for you, my son. Even kill Kureel again if need be, this is not your fault…his blood is on _my _hands…staining _my_ soul. Let yours be purified by your tears and give me your guilt…*_

Suddenly, like a vision or Suntop's '_magic feeling_', something changed within; as his son's sobs died away to reveal an exhausted, vulnerable side to the son he had not seen for an eight of eights, he realised that he, too, needed this. To bear his pain away with mingled tears and someone to hold…but for now, he held his only remaining child close and brought comfort to a troubled heart…

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><p><strong>The End...or, the Beginning...?<strong>

**Just a short little idea that came to me when I was re-reading some EQ comics I borrowed from the Local Library...**

**Like it? Please REVIEW!^^**

**~*SailorSilvanesti*~**


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